A Prime Target
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: It was his job as a sharpshooter to take down targets and make sure they stay down. But this time, why can't Bluestreak pull the trigger? ::More Than A Leader series::


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers or any of its characters.

**This is part of the "More Than A Leader" series, which will be about Optimus Prime and his relationships with the Autobots. It will mostly on the view of the said Autobot and how they perceive Optimus, whether he is a hero, friend, fatherly figure, brother, leader or something else to them. **

**This one-shot can stand alone, without support or continuance from the other soon-to-come stories. You can read the stories in whatever order you wish.**

**Meet the one and the only Bluestreak, the chatty, optimistic Autobot! **

**I have no idea if the Autobots/Decepticons use human terminology for guns**** or if they even use bullets****, which I did ****put ****in this fanfic. So please pardon**** me if the Autobots don't use them**** or if I used the terms incorrectly.**

**I would like to make an additional thank you to Jason M. Lee and saira-vo for correcting me in my grammar mistakes. And without further ado, this is the corrected version of the story.  
**

* * *

**A Sniper's Target**

When he decided to choose his profession as a shooter, Bluestreak knew exactly what he was getting into. He explored every possible occupation for him and even after extensive research, he knew he wanted to be a sharpshooter. A gunner. A marksman. A rifleman. And every other name that defines a mech with a gun and a good eye.

It's not as easy as some mechs believe it is. Some mechs believe that as long as you have a gun and use it to fire at an enemy, it makes them a shooter. But they are wrong, wrong, wrong. One can be a shooter by shooting randomly at things but it loses that specific beauty of taking a prey down from the shadows. A shooter is meant to acquire a target and bring it down effectively and silently, without their target knowing it has already become a target.

It was like playing a game of cat and mouse. Except one doesn't know whether or when the roles of cat and mouse will be switched. One moment, the hunter could be chasing down his quarry and before he realizes it, he has become the hunted. This kind of game opens so many possibilities and unpredictable factors that affect the game greatly and unexpectedly. A sudden rainfall could momentarily blind the hunter, giving his "victim" time to attack. An innocent breeze can carry the scent of a target to its sniper, alerting him of the target's whereabouts. Bluestreak likes these games. They're rather enjoyable and they keep him on his toes. Besides, they're fun.

However, there always comes a time when games are no longer games. There are always _those_ choices to make on the battlefield. Like whether he should focus on his objective or help his comrades who are desperate need of him. It was never easy for Bluestreak to make those kinds of decisions and he feels that after he makes them, things get worse than before. His old instructor back at the Academy told him if he comes across two difficult choices, it would be better if he chose the lesser evil of the two.

But how can he possibly choose between letting Megatron shoot Optimus Prime or doing it himself?

Fingers numbed, breath short, Bluestreak stared helplessly at Prime, who was incredibly calm. Megatron watched them both with a horribly hungry look. The rest of the Autobots stared powerlessly, their heads veering back and forth from Bluestreak and their leader like a tennis match. The Decepticons followed the Autobots' actions but with cheerful anticipation.

How did they end up in this unfavorable situation? It all began when the Decepticons were attacking another mine rich with energy. Optimus led his group of Autobots to deal with this new assault, immediately gaining the upper hand. Bluestreak, concealed and ever-watchful, silently took on the other Decepticon shooters. He grinned to himself as he attained another new target, so engrossed in the game that he didn't see Ravage and Laserbeak sneaking behind him.

Too late, they tackled him off his hidden position and into the battlefield. He twisted while falling, managing to fire a shot at Laserbeak. Ravage leaped at his firing arm, metal teeth hacking at his gun. Howling in pain, Bluestreak dropped his beloved rifle, lashing out a foot at the Decepticon spy, striking him hard in the head. Diving for his gun to finish the job, Bluestreak's fingertips just brushed against the handle before a sudden explosion shook the mines, knocking him off his feet and the rocky floor below him crumbled to a swallowing darkness.

Prime was the only one who realized it. He yelled out a warning, raced towards him, reaching for Bluestreak, missed and fell into the fissure alongside the shooter. The Autobots and Decepticons above stumbled to evade the falling rocks and the cracking crevices at their feet. Bluestreak thought he heard someone calling his name but all he could hear in his audio sensors were a painful ringing noise.

His descent was fortunately not met with sharp, knife-like rocks that would doubtlessly penetrate his armor. Unfortunately, it was met with a watercourse that happened to be located underneath the mines. Bobbing barely above the raging waters, Bluestreak struggled to remember Spike's lessons on swimming and to keep afloat. But he could not find any sure footing and the small mech was easily swept away. Optimus, much more bulky and with a heavier mass, plowed through to Bluestreak, grabbing him by the arm.

Together, they made it to shore. Sprawled out on the ground, Bluestreak coughed and spluttered, ejecting mouthfuls of water from his insides. Optimus shook himself like a dog, water spraying everywhere. They stood up, gazing at the dozens of channels and routes that spiraled out of sight.

" You all right, Bluestreak?" Prime asked. Bluestreak merely nodded, managing his coughing to the minimum. Prime directed them to one of the pathways, the one that seems to slope in the direction back to the mines. Bluestreak stayed close to Optimus, for it was eerily dark, the cavern only allowing slivers of light in.

And so, with nothing better to do, Bluestreak talked. He talked when he was cheerful, when he was miserable, when he was frightened, when he was irritated, when he was nervous, even when he was sleeping. He just loves to talk, almost as much as his sniper games. He talks of something, jumbled bits and pieces of nothing and distorted fragments of everything.

He complained of how cold the water was and how he feels he'll never be warm again. He spoke in awe of the stalactites and stalagmites projecting from the cave ground and ceiling. He grumbled after seeing the twisting, looping tunnels and passages. He chattered of mystical mazes, dragons lurking, princesses needing rescue and lingering ghosts in these caves, his imagination getting the better of him. He mentioned the paint balls that Spike got him earlier and he even brandished a whole array of colourful ones towards Optimus. He rambled unhappily of his dearly loved gun, lost back from the mines. He ranted of the cursed Decepticons, how it was their fault that they were stuck here. He contemplated if Prowl and the others will come and find them before proudly declaring that the Autobots will surely come to their rescue.

Prime absently nodded along this entire one-sided conversation, more concentrated on finding the way out. Bluestreak wondered if anyone actually listens to him. Somewhere deep down, he knew he can be frustratingly annoying with his meaningless ramblings. But he can't help it. He needed to talk. Him not talking is like the sun not shining or Megatron prancing around with flowers on his head.

Not coming any closer to finding an exit, their little two-man group decided to stop for a rest. Tired and bored, Bluestreak sat down on a rock, picking at small stones embedded in his foot, as Optimus remained standing, looking around the cavern's complex structure. Bluestreak had to admire his commander. His strength surprisingly hasn't been exhausted yet, even though he was in a battle with the Decepticons, almost drowned in a river and wandered in the caves for what seemed like hours.

It was rare that the two of them would be alone together. There were so many Autobots milling in the _Ark_, darting from one room to other, blending in with others, disappearing one second, barging into rooms, until it was nearly impossible to know which one is which sometimes. How Prime does it is an incredible feat. He, by some means, managed to remember all their names and their capabilities.

Bluestreak has always felt detached from Prime, whom, for some reason, he feels a little afraid of. He isn't close to his leader like Ironhide, Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet or even Bumblebee, who can all, with ease, talk and interact with Optimus. His and Prime's interests differed and their personalities and abilities as well. It was one thing to know your subordinates. It was another thing to _really_ know them. Prime doesn't know about Bluestreak's love for human video games or how he is able to spin a pencil around his fingers after Spike had taught him or that time when he got drunk, proclaiming his love for Sunstreaker. Bluestreak painfully digested the fact that Prime doesn't know much about him at all.

A clatter of rocks from above alerted of someone approaching. Bluestreak leaped to his feet, hoping that the Autobots have found them. Prime is but a motionless statue, gazing upwards. A burst of light caused the two mechs to blink, seeing only hazy shapes from the opening. But the overhead crack in the cavern revealed not Autobots, but Decepticons.

In a split second, Optimus whipped out his ion blaster, already aiming at Megatron. Bluestreak fumbled for his trustworthy rifle until he remembered that it was left behind in the mines.

" Aww. Has the itty bitty Autobot forgotten his weapon?" Starscream peered down at them, speaking in an obnoxiously high-pitched baby voice. Bluestreak clenched his jaw and said nothing. "Or maybe this piece of junk is what you're looking for?" The Decepticon carelessly waved Bluestreak's rifle, which was somehow miraculously recovered from the explosion. Only in the wrong hands.

Infuriated, Bluestreak attempted to make a leap at Starscream before being held down by Optimus. He cursed at the Decepticons who sniggered. " What's the matter, Autobot? Too chicken to get your own gun?" Rumble sneered. He began making chicken noises, causing the Decepticons to erupt in laughter.

Bluestreak was about to retort in a manner that would have made the twins beam in pride, when Optimus rested a hand on his shoulder. " What do you want, Megatron?" he called to the Decepticon leader.

" What I want? I thought you already know that answer." A Fusion cannon rumbled in eagerness. " Your surrender, Optimus Prime."

Optimus frowned, glancing from Bluestreak to the Decepticons and Bluestreak knew he was weighting their options. The Decepticons outnumbered them and have the higher ground. The shooter glanced around the cave, now flooded with light. There weren't many rocks for cover and too far of a distance to escape to before the Deceptions opened fire. So he wasn't shocked or made any attempt to argue with his commander when Prime lowered his gun and submitted to defeat.

A nasty leer settled on Megatron's face as he made his way to Optimus and Bluestreak. " How does failure taste, Prime?" Megatron jeered, upon reaching his archenemy, who remained silent, his gaze leveled. Bluestreak's fury had been close to surface, with Starscream handling his rifle and was rising a few notches now with the Decepticon leader taunting Prime.

No sooner did the Decepticons hauled Prime and Bluestreak from the cave when the Autobots came zooming towards them, a good microseconds too late. Dust flew as they skidded to a stop, transforming, their optics flickering from Optimus to Megatron. " Release them," Prowl said calmly, even though they all knew the answer already.

" And waste all the fun? Not a chance," Megatron scoffed. He yanked Prime in front of him, his cannon growling at Optimus' head. " Drop your weapons or Prime will be the first to go." A moment later, the Autobots' weapons clattered to the ground. But their expressions spoke of a barely controlled hatred. " Good," Megatron smiled. " Seems that Prime has kept all his dogs well trained."

Anger snapped in the Autobots' ranks upon hearing that. Delighting in their helplessness to do anything, Megatron decided to toy with them. " I wonder how well-trained are the dogs …" he mused out loud. " You. Autobot!" He suddenly snapped his fingers at Bluestreak, who started in alarm. " Shoot Prime."

The order was so simple and abrupt that he gapes. Stunned, the Autobots could only stare in horror at those words. " Do it," the Decepticon leader continued. " Or else I'll do it myself. And I assure you," he grabbed Prime by the throat, triggering alarmed protest and yells. " It will be much more painful."

Optimus must have seen him stiff with panic, because he then spoke. " It's all right, Bluestreak," he quietly said. For a moment, hope swelled in Bluestreak's chest and he believed that Optimus had some plan to save them both and escape from the clutches of the Decepticons. Instead, Prime merely said, " Just use what you have."

Bluestreak could only look on in mounting fear as Prime was shoved ruthlessly forward, interrupting what could be their last hope at escaping. Thundercracker had dragged the shooter to the middle of the Decepticon's semi-circle where everyone could see.

" Give him his gun!" Megatron shouted, snatching the rifle from Starscream and shoving it into Bluestreak's hands. There he stood, small and very alone, with a little click from Thundercracker's gun at his head as a reminder not to try anything funny. Optimus was positioned not too far away with Megatron's own Fusion cannon fixed upon him. " Go on, Autobot," the Decepticon leader barked at Bluestreak. " Shoot. Unless you want me to do the honours?"

Forcing himself to remain outwardly calm, Bluestreak quietly considered his options, like how he normally does in a game like this. One: shoot Optimus (no way in the Pit is that happening!). A no-win situation. Two: shoot Megatron. But that would result in Thundercracker shooting _him_. A no-win situation. Three: shoot Thundercracker before shooting Megatron. But both he and Optimus would find themselves being shot at by dozens of onlooker Decepticons. A no-win situation. Four: don't do anything, which would result in Megatron or Thundercracker shooting their hostages. A no-win situation. Again.

_Just use what you have_, Optimus had said. What is that suppose to mean?! What kind of code or advice is that? Did it even mean anything? And why was Optimus being so composed?!

Time was ticking ... _Just use what you have _... He clenched and unclenched his shaky grip on his rifle ... _Just use what you have_ ... Megatron was getting impatient ... _Just use what you have__ …_ He needed to do something ... _Just use what you have_ ... Optimus continued to look fixedly at him … _Just use what you have_ ... But what? … _Just use what you have_ ... What _did_ he have?

" Ah yes, the gun needs ammunition," Megatron said suddenly. He pulled out a mag of bullets specially used for Bluestreak's rifle. He tossed it to Bluestreak, who made a grab for it and missed, the silver cartridges raining down, tinkering on the dusty desert landscape.

The Decepticons guffawed contemptuously. Megatron allowed an oily smile to appear before ordering Bluestreak to pick up the bullets. The shooter did so, bending down, ignoring the sniggering as he slowly picked up the bullets, carefully inserting them back into their container. " Stop delaying," Thundercracker snarled, jabbing his gun to the back of Bluestreak's head, nearly causing him to drop the mag again after his careful reinserting of the bullets.

Bluestreak straightened, his rifle now loaded. He slowly lifted it up to eyelevel, where in the telescopic sight, he can see Prime perfectly. Megatron fervently snapped out orders for him to hurry up. The Decepticons sneered loudly at the Autobots, who could only glare back. Bluestreak's optics locked on Optimus'. An understanding flitted pass them both and Prime gave him a tiny nod. Bluestreak took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

The gunshot seemed to resound louder than usual as Optimus jerked backwards from the impact. A spray of a pink liquid splattered sickeningly on the ground, its droplets scattering through the air, peppering the ground below. Megatron crowed some sort of illegible scream in triumph. There were shouts from the Autobots but Bluestreak didn't bother trying to decipher them. He was too busy concentrating on ramming the butt of his rifle into Thundercracker's face.

The next moment, chaos erupted. The Autobots, grief-taken and enraged beyond anything, charged at them, their sheer force and relentless need for revenge hammering the surprised Decepticons back. Bluestreak ducked out of the line of fire, dodging Thundercracker's violent but blind shots. More bullets, punches and curses flew fiercely, nearly taking Bluestreak's head off. He wasn't sure anymore whether the Autobots' rage was directed towards the Decepticons or towards him. He tried crawling away from the heaviest area of the fighting, but Bluestreak halted no more than four measly crawls, staring up at the Fusion cannon pointed at his face.

" I owe you my thanks," Megatron said, smiling crudely. " I would have made you an honorary Decepticon."

Bluestreak gazed coldly at the Decepticon leader. " I'd rather die than become a Decepticon," he spat.

Megatron didn't seem fazed. " I'll grant your wish." His cannon was a mere few inches away from Bluestreak. He could feel the heat radiating from it, burning into his forehead.

" Not if I can help it."

All heads swiveled towards the source of the voice. The Autobots roared their joy while the Decepticons gawked in shock as a tall and amazingly conscious Optimus Prime stood, despite his dwindling energon depletion.

" But how -?" Megatron spluttered.

" A miracle, Megatron. Something not in your plan," Prime declared before delivering a felling blow to the Decepticon lord.

After that, the tide of the battle swiftly went to the Autobots and the Decepticons fled with their tailpipes behind their legs. But there are more pressing matters to worry about, as the Autobots hastily swarmed over to their commander, whose torso and right arm were all coated heavily in energon. " I'm all right," Optimus said, waving off the alarmed Autobots.

" That is something I have_ not_ heard of yet," Ratchet sarcastically mumbled to himself before glaring up at Prime. " Now get down here before I disconnect your equilibrium chips to make you come down here!" Obediently, Optimus kneeled down for the smaller medic to inspect him. The others watched anxiously, optics focused primarily on the nauseatingly amount of energon gushing from Optimus' chest as Ratchet worked on him. Bluestreak observed them all with a rather gleeful expression, waiting and watching until …

Ratchet stopped suddenly and straightened, glaring suspiciously at Prime who replied with an innocent look. " It's paint," he said in stunned realization. By now, Optimus is struggling to keep a straight face while the others were gaping, dumbfounded.

" For dramatic effect," a new voice chipped in.

They turned towards a smiling Bluestreak, who was leaning against his rifle, grinning broadly. He waited patiently for once, his smirk just daring one of them to speak. Finally, Hound is unable to contain his curiosity any longer. " How did you do it?" he asked.

His grin widened as he explained. " Spike had earlier given me some paint balls. All in different colours: red, blue, green, etc. While Megatron tossed the mag at me, I purposely dropped it, giving me time to add some pink-coloured paint balls into the firing chamber. So, when I fired the shot, it was actually the paint ball hitting Prime and it would release the pink paint, making everyone think it was energon and that I really did shoot Prime."

There was a pause after Bluestreak's explanation. " That was rather clever of you, Bluestreak," Wheeljack eventually said.

" I wouldn't have remembered I had them until Prime dropped the hint," Bluestreak shrugged.

Then, he realized that Optimus was actually paying attention his chattering back in the caverns when he did talk about the paint balls. Guilt rose in him. How could he have even begun to think that Prime doesn't know him? Prime didn't tell him to shut up when Bluestreak babbled incessantly in the caves because he knew Bluestreak needed to vent out some of his frustration and anxiety. He yielded to Megatron in hopes not that Bluestreak would be harmed, knowing Bluestreak could take care of himself. He surrendered so that Bluestreak's cherished rifle wouldn't be used in battle by Decepticon hands, sensing Bluestreak's resentment and displeasure that another was holding _his _rifle. The reason he remained calm during the whole shooting confrontation was because he knew that Bluestreak was smarter than most mechs take him for and would figure out what his cryptic message meant. Prime did know much about him. And Bluestreak shamefully realized he barely knew Optimus in return. It was rather selfish of him, expecting Prime to do all the understanding and not do a thing himself.

As Optimus ordered them to roll out back to base, he gave Bluestreak a clap to the shoulder, a grateful smile and then he transformed, heading back to the base for a well-deserved wash. Bluestreak and the others followed him, not only out of respect and admiration, but because Prime's loyalty goes to them first, even before his own safety and wellbeing. He gives his all to know (the _really_ know kind of know) his Autobots, his comrades, _his_ friends, as Bluestreak has come to see.

Tomorrow, Bluestreak decided that he make more of an effort to get to know Prime. And he can start by telling Optimus all about his little drunk incident that ended with him proclaiming his love for Sunstreaker.


End file.
